What Lies Beneath
by michealangela
Summary: A hunt goes wrong when a spirit takes on a mind of its own, setting its eyes on a new victim....Sam.
1. Chapter 1

Title: What Lies Beneath  
Author: Michealangela  
Rating: T (for some cursing)  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. (

A/N: Ok hi everybody!! this is my first fanfiction thing ever!! Ahh!! I am a total supernatural nerd! Haha. I am extremely excited and nervous at the same time...its insane!! I love it! SO i would absolutely love it if you all could read and leave me a review...just a quick thought or anything. I wanna know how i am doing so i can work on future stories. This is just chapter one...  
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WHAT LIES BENEATH

--CHAPTER ONE—

Sam held tighter and tighter to the docks ragged edge. His knuckles were white with fear, his face only mere inches from complete submersion. He could feel his body being drawn under as though the lake were trying to swallow him entirely. He knew that the only remaining link between life and death was his weakening grip. Sam didn't know how much longer he could remain in this dire position but he was sure it could not be more than a few minutes, tops. Sam lifted his head in desperation, eyes searching frantically for his brother, Dean. If he could find Dean, he would be okay. If he could find Dean, this nightmare would be over. But as he continued to look, no sight of Dean reached Sam's eyes. Sam began to feel Death's eminent grip slowly curling its fingers around his life. He needed Dean. Tears started to blur his vision as his arms began to shake. Nothing but deadly silence pierced through him as he clung to the dock, waiting painfully for death… "DEAN!!"

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4 Hours Earlier

Dean pulled the Impala into the empty parking space in the abandoned lot. Seeing as the Impala was his most prized possession, he refused to park it next to anything that may threaten to scratch its fine exterior paint job, including the many trees that were present. A little extra walking never hurt anybody, especially not Sam. Sam, however, begged to differ. He gave Dean an incredulous "Are you friggen kidding me?!" look. Dean simply grinned at Sam in response, and then shut off the engine, pocketed the keys, and hopped out of his baby. After all, it was Dean's car. Well, in theory anyway.

Sam begrudgingly hopped out of the car. He could already sense that this was going to be a long day. Sam rolled his eyes as he shut the car door and waited for Dean to unload the necessary gear from the trunk of the Impala. He watched as Dean's eyes shot to the back left corner of the trunk, as if desperately wishing the Colt would somehow appear. That was one of the main reasons Dean was so resistant in coming to Champlain, Wyoming in the first place. It was a long drive and with the Colt missing, all Dean wanted to do was locate Bella and give her a piece of his mind. Sam wanted the Colt as well but after searching for what seemed like an eternity and coming up completely empty handed, Sam figured they might as well take out a couple of evil son-of-a-bitches along the way. Even if it didn't help them find the colt, at least it let them blow off some steam.

"Remind me again why we are here--in the middle of freakin' no man's land?" called Dean, preoccupied with checking and rechecking all of the gear and weapons in the process. Dean DID NOT want to be here in Champlain, Wyoming. Hell, he'd rather be anywhere but here! There wasn't even a decent bar within a thirty minute drive of their crappy motel. This whole damn hunt was Sam's idea. And yeah, alright. So Dean knew that Sam was only dragging his ass on this hunt because Sam was highly concerned about Dean's sanity and Dean recognized the effort for all it was worth, but seriously… Couldn't Sam have found anywhere better than this craphole of a town? Dean slammed the trunk shut and started off towards the trail that would lead to the lake.

"Well in the past few weeks, there have been a couple of weird deaths that have occurred… Three to be exact. All of these incidents took place in the same location, Lake Champlain. The first victim was this man who was said to have mysteriously drowned in the lake even though he was an expert swimmer training for the Olympics. The second victim, also male, just dropped dead on the shore. The strange thing is that the autopsy revealed his lungs were flooded with water. However, all of the witnesses claim that his entire body was dry at the time of death and when he dropped, he collapsed a good twenty feet from any surrounding water. And then, just last week, a guy was found washed up on shore after somehow being impaled by a very dull, half rotted piece of wood off of a nearby dock. The authorities are claiming that there is some freak chemical in the lake or that a group of rowdy teenagers is up to no good. I say that is a load of crap." Sam knew that incidents like these just didn't happen because of 'some freak chemical' or 'a group of rowdy teenagers'. No. Incidents like these were part of his job description.

"Sounds pretty fishy to me," said Dean, with a half-cocked grin spread wide as he chuckled to himself. Sam merely rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. That was typical Dean. He always managed to find the sarcasm and crack a joke no matter what the situation. Funeral, baseball game, dinner time, you name it. Dean always had one up his sleeve.

"Okay then smartass. You want me to finish or not?" The things Dean could come up with sometimes…

"Yeah, yeah. Calm down Sammy. Don't go getting you panties all in a knot. Geesh." Dean knew it had been a long couple of weeks for the both of them with the colt missing and all. Although the stress wasn't really getting to Dean (at least not on the surface or in any matter that would be readily detected by Sam), Dean could tell that everything was starting to take its toll on Sam. Sam always had been the brother to express his feelings and wear his heart on his sleeve. Dean was only trying to lighten the mood with his joke, and, seeing as Sam had tried to hide a small grin unsuccessfully; Dean could tell his tactic had worked.

"Alright, so anyways…these three guys all died in the past few weeks. And of course, they all had some things in common. Like I just said, each death occurred at the same lake, Lake Champlain. Each victim was also the youngest male in their family and in their twenties. Then I checked things out online and I found this." Sam dug the newspaper article out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. He watched Dean's eyes skim the article as quickly as possible. The article showed a picture of Lake Champlain with a mourning family standing beside it near a dock. "Micheal Pristine," continued Sam, "Died a little over a month ago on a fishing trip. According to his friends, everyone was standing on the shore when the boat Micheal was using just exploded and everything burst into flames, Micheal included. Authorities go to look for a body and they can't find anything, not even a single bone."

Dean looked at Sam skeptically. Normally for a spirit to haunt something, a piece of the spirit has to be remaining, such as a bone or a strand of hair or even blood. Sam had clearly just stated that the police hadn't discovered anything of Micheal's remains. How in the hell could this guy be haunting the lake if there was nothing left of his body to haunt?

"Okay—so you think this Micheal dude is our spirit?"

"Well yeah. I mean it all fits. Plus, I did a little further research on Micheal and I found out that he was the youngest in his family at the age of 26. This fits our spirit's victim preference. And when I went to check the previous month's records to ensure that Micheal wasn't just another victim, I came up with squat. Absolutely no records match anything close to this case. It has to be Micheal."

Dean stopped for a minute to digest what Sam had just said. He knew that Micheal really did fit the pattern and that, when it came down to it, Micheal was probably the culprit behind the attacks. But something was still bugging him. Something just felt…off. And then, suddenly, the reasoning behind his concern became clear. Dean glared crossly at Sam. God that kid could be so fucking stupid sometimes!

"Dude, time out. The spirit goes after guys that are the youngest in the family and in their early twenties?"

"Uh yeah. So what?" Sam was extremely confused. Dean had gone from just sorta pissed at the whole world to full blown rage at him. There wasn't anything abnormal about the victim preference. Spirits usually have a certain type of person that they are keen to haunt. Some seek revenge, some seek pleasure, and some, well , some are just plain complicated. Sam didn't understand why this spirit was any different, yet the intensity of Dean's defiant stare told him he should be thinking otherwise.

"So what?! Are you kidding me? Hmm, Sam. Let's think here. Guys in their early twenties that are the youngest in the family…fit anyone we know?! Do you want this damn spirit to come after you or what? It's like you are signing your own friggen death certificate or something." Dean was already in the process of returning to the Impala. Sam could practically see the anger emanate from him.

"Dean! … Hey, Dean! Wait a second, man." Sam was not surprised when Dean didn't even do so much as nod in his direction or throw some nasty comment back at Sam to acknowledge him. Dean wasn't the type to mess around with this shit. They already had enough to deal with as it was, let alone a spirit that was hell bent on killing people, one of whom could very soon be Sam. Nope, a hunt like that was just not gonna happen. Not on Dean's watch anyways. There were too many risks involved for his liking. Unfortunately for Dean, Sam was taller and therefore had a longer stride making it a breeze for him to catch up to Dean. He was by Dean's side in no time. "Hey, would you stop a second so I can explain?" huffed out Sam. It became obvious that Dean had no intention of stopping. Nevertheless, he was forced to concede rather abruptly when Sam grabbed him by the arm, pulling him so they were face to face.

"You didn't let me finish. So this Micheal guy goes after all of these guys, right? Well, so far all the victims have only been attacked on Tuesdays, with no other mysterious sightings or suspicious attacks throughout the rest of the week. And seeing as today is Thursday rather than Tuesday, I think I will be just fine." Sam paused and hesitated to go on, studying Dean for any hint of emotion to breech the surface. He wasn't exactly surprised when Dean showed no external change at all. After all, Dean wasn't exactly the touchy feely type of guy. Sam concluded it was safe to continue on after a moment of silence from both brothers. "So are you still up for killing this evil bastard or am I gonna have to do this all by myself?"

After a couple more seconds, Dean's glare began to subside a considerate amount. The information that Sam had just relayed over helped to ease his mind a little but it didn't change the fact that he still didn't like the idea of this hunt. The possibility remained, no matter how remote, that Sam could be attacked by this spirit. But instead of arguing, Dean let the issue rest for the time being. "You? Kill something by yourself? Ha! Good joke, Sammy. Helen Keller could probably kill this spirit better than you and she was even handicapped. You know, I bet her aim was better than yours too…"

Sam felt relieved and yet slightly annoyed at the same time. He could manage on his own just fine. Okay, well pretty fine anyways. Besides, he knew Dean would never permit him to go on a solitary hunt. Sam considered Dean watching over him as Dean's full-time job. Dean, on the other hand, considered it his way of life. Sam let out a sigh. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean grinned as he replied back. To the average onlooker, these comments might have been viewed as spiteful and insensitive. But to Sam and Dean, this was the equivalent of saying 'I love you too.' Dean looked around at the scenery as he changed his direction from the Impala back towards the lake… They were in the middle of the woods, and as far as he could tell, there was zero sign of a lake in the near future. "So where is this damn lake anyways?"

Sam didn't reply but continued to stare off at a distance. Dean snapped his fingers in Sam's face, causing Sam to jump and rather abruptly come back to reality. Dean chuckled. "Geesh, were you sleeping over there or what?"

"What? Oh—uh sorry. Right. Um, the lake? It's a pretty short hike from here. Nothing too extreme."

"Alright then. Let's go," said Dean as he let Sam take the lead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright...so thats it! thats chapter one! Oh god. i am so nervous! I hope you enjoyed it...leave me a review if you can. Chapter 2 is coming soon and i promise there will be some more action.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: What Lies Beneath  
Author: Michealangela  
Rating: T (for some cursing)  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. (

A/N: Ok hi everybody!! Again! I know I just posted my first chapter yesterday and all but when I logged on today I was swamped with so many AWESOME reviews!! Thank you so much…you all totally made my day! But anyways, getting all this feedback and stuff made me HAVE to write my next chapter…duh duh duhnnnn! Haha. So anyways here is chapter 2. For anyone who forgot, chapter one left off with Dean and Sam heading off to the woods with the lake in it. And just a reminder-- this is still my first fanfiction story EVER so reviews are always welcomed-majorly! AHH! Thanks a million!

A/N2: Oh and thanks to all those people who added my story to their favorites list! That is so cool for me!! I have a huge ass smile spread wide across my face right now! (They like me! They really like me!!) And thanks to all those who put me on their alert thingy…you guys rock!! J

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WHAT LIES BENEATH

--CHAPTER TWO--

-30 minutes later-

"Son of a bitch," Dean grunted as he hit the forest floor with a thud, tripping over the roots of an old rotting tree. Great, just great. This was so just his luck. First the Colt is gone, then a hunt in the middle of nowhere, then a spirit who has a certain fetish for guys like Sam, and now this… Could anything _else_ possibly go wrong today?

"Dude! You are such a friggen liar… I thought you said this little 'hike' would only take like fifteen minutes. It's been over a half hour and I still can't even see this damn lake. Hell! I don't even see so much as a puddle!" Dean remained seated on the forest floor, brushing off the dirt that had managed to tack itself to his clothing. The annoyance was clearly etched in Dean's voice. Sam turned around reluctantly and worked his way back toward his fuming older sibling. When he finally reached the spot where Dean had decided to play 'I suck at being a ballerina', Sam held out a hand and began to pull Dean to his feet. Bad idea. In a matter of two seconds Dean had managed to reverse their positions, leaving a dumbstruck Sam now sitting on his ass in the middle of the trail. This was just wonderful.

Sam lingered on the ground for a moment and shook his head. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this hunt, wondering if maybe he should have saved it for a time when Dean wasn't so moody. Nevertheless, Sam slowly got up off the ground and brushed himself off. Knowing that Dean was becoming more and more impatient by the minute, he resumed hiking at a slightly faster pace. The sooner this was over with, the better.

"Relax, it's just ahead. And besides, I never said it would take fifteen minutes. I believe what I said was that it was a 'pretty short hike' from the car. Considering we've only covered about a mile and a half in ground, I would say that that qualifies under the 'pretty short hike' category." Sam grinned inwardly to himself as he felt Dean struggle to stumble upon a decent comeback. God did Sam love having the one-up on his brother. His smirk quickly subsided when Dean, clearly wanting to be the bigger man, whacked Sam upside the head.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well then college boy, if you think you're so smart then tell me how exactly do you think we are gonna waste this guy? I mean, from what I gather, there isn't exactly any remains to pull a routine salt-and-burn. So even if we find this bastard and you prove that it's Micheal, what are we gonna do? Throw a little party to celebrate that you were right for a change?" Dean had remembered what Sam had told him about the accident: dude was on his boat in the lake, friends were on the shore, and then the boat just exploded. The boat and Micheal just went M.I.A. But if they were really gone, then how could his spirit be killing people? Something just wasn't right.

"Ha ha. You're hilarious, you know that? But seriously, I had to think about that one for a while. I mean, if you look at it realistically, the explosion couldn't have been planned more perfectly to prevent a supernatural being from haunting the lake. The boat was covered in gasoline from the explosion and it was on a SALT-water lake when it burnt. That probably explains why there is nothing left, at least nothing of Micheal or the fishing boat. But I looked a little closer at the police report and I think I figured it out." Sam stopped, looking over at Dean to see if he was keeping up. Watching Dean think was always a rare and amusing occasion for Sam to see (seeing as it occurred oh so little). Sam took advantage of the situation and remained silent, with nothing but a seemingly childish 'I know something you don't know' look present on his face.

After a few minutes in deep concentration, Dean came up with nothing. Jack squat. There was no boat, no bones, no hair, no clothes, no body, no blood, no nothing. What the hell could this spirit still be attached to? One look at Sam and his annoyance peaked. "Any day now, Grandma."

"What? You mean to tell me that you, Dean Winchester, master of everything known to mankind, can't figure this one out?" Sam was savoring his victory, knowing that it would be very short lived.

Dean attempted to think of a rebuttal to throw back at Sam. Sometimes he swore he could strangle this kid. He was _this_ close. But seeing as a good handful of spirits, monsters, and supernatural entities in general had already succeeded in strangling Sam to the point of unconsciousness, the temptation was slightly less appealing. A minute or two later, Dean rolled his eyes and claimed defeat. "Uh excuse me man, but I am only the master of important things, the things they don't teach you in some lousy books. For example: women. I know them inside and out, literally. I could give you a lesson or two sometime. From the look of things, you could use a little help in that department." Dean grinned at the appalled look that Sammy was now sporting in light of his last comment. Poor little innocent Sam…teasing him would never get old. Never. "Anyways, would you spit it out already? What gives?"

"Alright… so the boat and Micheal both blew up and completely disintegrated, BUT the rope and the dock that the boat was attached to still remain in tack, perfectly unscathed. I figure the boat was probably attached to Micheal's dock by a rope. Seeing as the boat obviously had some sentimental value to him, the rope is my guess as to why our buddy Micheal is still around. I mean, technically the rope and the dock are just as much a part of the boat as the boat itself. It would be like completely destroying the Impala except for one tire. If that tire was still in existence, you'd sure as hell be out to haunt whoever's ass was stupid enough to mess with the Impala in the first place, right?"

"Well hell yeah I would! Dude, I would cruise right on past 'haunt' and move straight to murder! Maybe even torture." Dean allowed a couple of seconds to regain his composure and process everything. He glanced over at Sam in shock… Sam really was a walking encyclopedia of weirdness. First off, to even suggest doing something so inhumane to his baby was absolutely unfathomable. But to piece together the whole dock-rope-boat thing was actually pretty impressive, although Dean would have never admitted that to Sam. He himself wouldn't have thought of the rope or the dock as being the supernatural connection but now that Sam mentioned it, it seemed to make sense. "So you think that's it? All we have to do is torch the rope and the dock that belonged to Micheal and then we'll be home free—no more spirit to deal with?"

Sam nodded in confirmation. "Uh huh. Well kinda. See, what I still don't get is the third victim's death. He was pierced through his heart with a dull piece of wood from the dock. Dull…meaning not sharp. How many blunt pieces of wood do you know that can penetrate that far into a human body, let alone make it directly through the heart? And I don't understand how Micheal could have even used the board anyways. Most spirits are pretty limited in how they kill. They have patterns, rules that they follow. If Micheal killed the first two guys with a method involving water, why the sudden change?"

"Sam, you would have to put some serious force that wood to get it to even break skin. There has to be some kind of supernatural element at play to pull something like that off. I don't know man…maybe Micheal possesses super strength or was a Wheaties addict." Dean shook his head in a downcast manner. Even as he said it, he knew that a spirit having 'super strength' sounded absolutely retarded and if there even was such a thing as a 'Wheaties addict', Dean sure as hell didn't want to meet one of them. The incredulous look on Sam's face only confirmed that thought.

"Ha! Super strength…this is a spirit we are talking about here Dean. Leave batman out of this one. And just a little f.y.i. — Wheaties aren't like crack. I am pretty sure you can't become addicted."

Dean picked up the pace, leaving Sam chuckling to himself a few yards behind. He hiked a moment in silence, replaying the whole scenario in his head. Sam was right. This was weird. "Man, whatever. You know what I mean. I say we just torch the whole friggen dock, rope and all. Then we should bust outa this hellhole, leaving this cruddy town in our rearview mirror. If anyone else dies after that, then we'll come back and figure something else out later."

"Yeah, alright." Sam didn't like the idea of letting any more people die because of this apparition, but, seeing as he didn't have any better ideas, Dean's plan would have to suffice.

After five more minutes of laborious climbing through the brush and rocky terrain, they finally reached Lake Champlain. All sides of the lake were encircled by trees, cutting it off in isolation from any surrounding civilization. The lake itself was a little weird to begin with. Salt-water lakes aren't usually present in the middle of Wyoming, but, when Sam researched the area, all records said that it had always been salt water as opposed to fresh water. There was some funky explanation involving the glaciers. Salt-water or not, Lake Champlain was a moderately small sized lake. Nothing too small, but large enough to be a problem. There were several privately owned docks protruding from the exterior of the lake; twelve total. When Sam saw this, only one thought came to mind: _OH SHIT!_ Sam's heart plummeted. His brain kept repeating those two words, as if it was a silent mantra screaming inside his head. He knew he had forgotten to do something before he left. Sam had felt that nagging feeling all afternoon but had brushed it off as nerves. He hadn't thought to check the layout of the lake to locate exactly which dock's was Micheal's. And, seeing as there were twelve docks around the seven mile radius of the lake, this was a definite problem. "Uh Dean," Sam's constricted throat managed to squeeze out. "We may have a slight dilemma here."

Dean turned to face Sam, not liking the look that was clearly plastered all over his brother's face. Dean knew he wasn't going to like this. Great. Fucking great. Just add another thing to his list of shitty things that seem to be happening today. Dean already had a bad feeling about this hunt and he knew that feeling wasn't going anywhere soon in the near future. "What is it now?"

"It's just that, well, see…" Sam was trying to figure out the best way to break the news to the highly agitated Dean in a way that wouldn't end in pain infliction upon the messenger. Considering they were in the middle of nowhere with no laptop or cell reception and they were both left slightly tired and grumpy from their hike through the woods, this was without a doubt going to be an impossible task to accomplish on Sam's part. Nonetheless, he progressed onward. "Okay. So the thing is that I, uh, well I don't exactly know, per say, which dock belongs to Micheal Pristine. I mean I know it's one of these, but I'm not sure exactly _which_ one it is." Sam began mentally beating himself up. God! How could he be so stupid to forget to check something as trivial as the dock location? It was a rookie mistake. His dad would be ashamed of him if he were standing here right now.

One look at Dean's face and Sam knew he might as well expect to shower in ice cold water for the next few weeks. Actually, it would probably be more like months, maybe even years before Sam would experience a decently hot shower. He dared a look into Dean's eyes. Did he say showering cold? Make that not showering at all… Dean was so going to kill him.

"Oh, well that's just fucking peachy! Real smart move there, Sam. What the hell are we supposed to do now, genius—burn down every dock in sight?! Yeah, because that's not obvious. 'Oh hi everybody! Don't mind us. We're just burning down your dock. No worries. We'll be done in a second.' Pshh…that won't attract the authority figures of any kind. Damn it, Sam! I knew this was a bad idea from the start."

Sam was struggling to come up with a plan fast before Dean would do something irrational. There was no way they could burn down all twelve docks. Not only did they not have enough gasoline, salt, and matches; neither of the brothers had the patience to hike the entire perimeter of the lake to set each of these suckers ablaze. Besides that, Dean was right. It would attract a lot of unwanted attention, something both he and Dean both preferred to avoid. 'Eenie-meenie-miney-mo' was sounding better and better by the second. 'Shit! C'mon! Think Sam, think!' was all that was running through Sam's mind. There has to be something he was missing, some clue that would point the way to Micheal's dock. And then, like it was divine intervention, an idea occurred to him.

"Dean, hear me out, alright? I think I've got it! I think I know how to figure out which dock is Micheal's. So Micheal died a little over a month ago. Well in the newspaper, the picture was of the family mourning beside the lake. They were standing alongside his dock. Surely they left flowers or a statue or something behind as an emblem for Micheal's memory. All we need to do to find the dock is locate that something they left behind."

With that being said, both brothers immediately began to scan each of the twelve docks for the presence of any items that would have been left behind by the family. Sam sighed in frustration. None of the closer docks had anything adorning their wooden planks or beaches. Dean crouched down and began to dig in his bag in search of their binoculars, knocking over and opening some small container in the process. Had this been a regular day, he would have stopped to assess the condition of the gear and make sure everything was still in functioning order, but seeing as he wanted nothing more than to leave this goddamn lake, he returned the bag to his shoulder and stood up with the binoculars in hand. Dean brought them up to his eyes and started rapidly eying in the docks. That's when he saw it. He saw the dock they had been looking for. Standing on the beach by the dock was an angel figurine holding a wreath of flowers. That just had to be it. Dean slapped Sam on the chest and pointed to the dock. It was only a brief trek from where the brothers were currently standing. Both took off in the direction of the dock, Dean in front of course, without any further hesitation.

Upon reaching the dock five minutes later, the brothers tensed up and looked around. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck began to stand on end, like soldiers preparing for battle. Something felt really eerie in the surrounding air. Dean felt as though he and Sam were being watched, and not in a good way either. Evidently, Sam was feeling the same way because he too was clearly on alert, ready for the defensive if need be. Sam grabbed the EMF detector and switched it on. Within a matter of seconds, it started going off the charts. This was most definitely it. This was Micheal Pristine's dock. Now all that was left was to torch the damn thing.

Sam flicked off the EMF detector, allowing an eerie silence to settle between the brothers. They remained stationary in this silence for a minute or two before Dean finally spoke up. "So…what do you say we send this bastard to where he belongs once and for all?"

Sam nodded briefly in agreement, unable to shake off the uneasiness that had currently snaked itself into the bottom of his stomach. He wanted this hunt to be over with like yesterday. Dean took the duffle bag off his shoulder and placed it on the ground. He began to rummage through the gear, looking for the container that held all of their matches.

"Damn it." Having found zero evidence of the container, Dean opened the bag of gear a little wider. That's when he saw it. The container of matches was empty, lid discarded only a few inches away. All of the matches were scattered under their ammo and weapons. To make matters worse, in the course of their trip out to the lake, every last one of their matches had somehow managed to get wet. Like soaked to the core wet. Dean grabbed the bottle of gasoline and the container of salt and handed them both to Sam, who had a peculiar expression on his face. It was as if Sam wanted to ask him something, but was questioning whether or not it was a wise decision at the moment. Dean ignored this look and began groping inside the bag to find a decent match as Sam turned and headed in the direction of the dock, obviously concluding his question was better off being asked at a later time. Sam eased his way out onto the dock with a determined look set on his face and began drenching the rotting wood in gasoline. Micheal's killing streak was ending today and Sam was going to be damn sure of that.

Beneath the dock, something began to creep slowly out of the murky water, something that had a slightly different plan in mind.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for reading chapter two!! Please review! I really appriciate them! I am still new at this so a little feedback is more than welcomed!


	3. Chapter 3

Title: What Lies Beneath  
Author: Michealangela  
Rating: T (for some cursing)  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. :(

A/N: Hello again! So i sincerely apologize for the delay in this next instilment..i was studying abroad and unfortunatly had limited internet access! Trust me...it was brutal! So anyways, while i was stranded from civilization as we know it, i had time to do a little editing and revising to my first two chapters. Please check them out and let me know what you think! I was hoping they maybe sounded a little more..um supernatural-ey? lol...so, without further ado, here is chapter three!

WHAT LIES BENEATH

--CHAPTER THREE—

"Oh fuck." Dean scowled at the pile of discarded matches that now lay scattered on the ground. Every match in the duffle bag had somehow, as if by an act of God himself, managed to get wet. Which, really, considering the way their day was progressing thus far, came as no shock to Dean. They had no matches, and, to top things off, both his and Sam's lighters were out of juice. So much for starting a fire the easy way...

Dean glanced around, scanning his surroundings for anything, anything at all that would produce fire. Evidently, it had been raining a whole hell of a lot the past couple of days. Consequentially, all of the wood that was present around the dock was soaked beyond the point of ignition. Lighting a fire the old fashioned way was out of the picture. Dean continued his ruthless search, his eyes eventually resting upon a small, currently uninhabited cabin that was only about ½ a mile away from the dock. "Yahtzee," muttered Dean as he stood up.

Although he hated the thought of leaving Sam alone on the dock with a pissed off spirit who was hell bent on killing people matching Sam's exact description to a T, Dean knew he needed to find something to start the fire. Without the fire, the spirit would still haunt the lake and people would still die meaning the brothers would still have to stay in this dump of a town. Without the fire, Dean had just trekked his ass all the way out to this god damn lake for absolutely no reason. So, the way Dean figured, leaving Sam alone for a few minutes was a risk he was willing to take. Besides, Sam said Micheal only came out to 'play' pretty regularly on Tuesdays and today was Thursday. It was definitely worth a chance. Plus, the sooner this hunt was over, the sooner they could resume their tedious hunt for the missing Colt.

With that thought in mind, Dean headed determinedly towards the cabin. Even though he kept silently reassuring himself, Dean couldn't help but to glance back every few seconds to check on his little brother who was currently busy covering the dock with the gas and salt. An onlooker would most likely have assumed that Dean had turrets or was just abnormally paranoid about Sam. But to Dean, none of this mattered. When it came to Sam, nothing else mattered. Nothing else in the world. Sam was Dean's responsibility. End of story. Case closed.

Dean climbed the steps onto the front porch and skillfully picked the lock. He had the cabin's main entrance open in a matter of seconds. Being trained in supernatural combat did have its perks after all, thought Dean. With one last encouraging look at Sam, he ducked inside and began his search for anything that would start a fire.

--

Sam continued to douse the dock in gasoline. He stole a quick glance at Dean. Sam could tell that Dean was pretty mad about something judging by Dean's outwardly rough body movements and severely livid expression strewn across his face. Sam watched for a moment as Dean was ripping through their dufflebag and cursing under his breath. Apparently, Dean had lost something. Sam decided it was best not to ask questions, so when Dean simply stuck out the gasoline bottle and container of salt expectantly, Sam took them both and got to work. The last thing he needed right now was for Dean to be really pissed at him too for some god awful unknown reason that would only make sense to Dean.

Sam was working on drenching every last inch of the dock he could find. There was no way in hell he wanted to hike back out to this damn lake with a seriously pissed off Dean by his side. One trip out here had been one trip too many for Sam's liking. Besides that, he wanted to ensure that no one else died because of Micheal's spirit. Three victims had been too many. Inside, Sam's stomach was continuously churning with apprehension. Something about this hunt felt weird. It just felt plain wrong. Although Sam attributed most of this uneasiness to the whole 'I fit the victim profile' business, he couldn't help but feel that he was still missing something. All of his instincts were screaming that something was about to go wrong, terribly wrong. Being raised the way he was had instilled one thing in Sam: Fear was not an option. Fear only led to vulnerability. Vulnerability left one defenseless and apt to err, neither of which Sam cared to be at the moment.

Sam moved on from the gasoline to the salt canister. He started to sprinkle a decent amount of salt evenly on the top of dock. God did he hope he was right about the dock being Micheal's connection to the living. Sam had really only been guessing logically when he suggested it, though he didn't care to share this little tad bit of information with Dean. This whole hunt was centered on this educated guess. But seeing as Dean had no objections to the suggestion and actually agreed with Sam for a change, Sam figured they might as well give it a shot.

When Sam had finished covering the dock with salt, he turned around to check on Dean's progress with his search through the gear. His heart rate spiked when he saw the duffle bag lying solitary, wide open on the ground. Dean was gone. Sam could feel the panic rising, gripping his every nerve. He shut his eyes and began rubbing them as hard as his fingers would allow. This had to be a dream. Scratch that—this was more like a fucking nightmare. Dean wouldn't leave him. Not now, not ever, and especially not in the middle of a hunt. Sam was Dean's reason for living and there was no way in hell Dean would just abandon him in the middle of friggen Wyoming with a malevolent spirit to deal with. No. Dean wasn't like that. Still, Sam couldn't help but feel a little bit alarmed. No, he was clearly envisioning things. Maybe it was the fumes from the gasoline getting to his head. This was definitely not real. Sam closed his eyes and began rubbing them. After a minute or two dragged by, Sam figured he had better rescan the area for his brother. His eyelids rose slowly, easing their way from mere slits to wide open. No. No-no-no-no-no-no! Still no sign of Dean. This was definitely not happening. Sam began to feel his fear taking over as his eyes continuously scanned the vicinity for Dean. Only one thought raced through his mind: Where in the hell was Dean?!

Sam turned hesitantly and faced the lake. His feet were now firmly plastered to the dock, body frozen in fear. He half expected to see his brother floating there dead in the water, just another one of Micheal's victims. No. Sam mentally stopped his brain mid-thought. He couldn't bear to think of such things. He needed Dean as much as Dean needed him. Dean dying was just not an option. But then again, Dean 

had never abandoned him before. Sure, Dean had been pretty pissed and yeah, he was having a pretty shitty day but Sam knew Dean better than that. Or at least he thought he did, anyways.

Sam was too absorbed in his concern about Dean to notice the ghastly figure that was now rising out of the water, eyes watching his every move. The figure looked exactly like the man described in the newspaper clipping. His body was charred, as though it had battled fire and clearly came out on the losing end. He was a younger man, mid twenties with dark blonde hair. His face held an expression of pure evil, one that reeked of vengeance and death. Unfortunately for Sam, this spirit had only one thing on his mind: revenge.

Sam remained stationary on the dock, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. With Dean gone, he had a limited number of options. Sam looked down at the dock. It was still covered in gasoline and salt. All Sam would have to do is ignite it and then this bastard would go straight to hell and Sam could find Dean. Dean… Sam's stomach just dropped at the thought of him. He closed his eyes for a moment to come up with a plan and allow himself some time to calm his nerves.

Suddenly, without warning, Sam gasped as something curled itself around his left ankle and pulled… hard. Sam's legs flew out from under him and he collapsed onto the dock, successfully knocking the wind out of his lungs. His eyes snapped open as his mind tried to figure out what was happening and his lungs attempted to refill with air. That's when it hit him. He was being attacked by Micheal. So much for only attacking on Tuesdays… Sam's mind kicked into gear, trying to formulate a plan that ended in him surviving. Something slimy wrapped around his other ankle and started tugging. This was so not good. Sam's body began to slide along the surface of the dock, slowly progressing towards the lake. Sam tried to desperately feel for something to grasp onto to prevent being sucked into the water. Unfortunately, the salt and gasoline covering the top of the dock were acting as a lubricant, providing a small amount of friction between Sam's body and the wood. Well if that wasn't just a kick in the ass. Sam felt the water begin to seep into his shoes and creep up his legs. Micheal's hands were still securely clasped around his ankles with an airtight grip. Sam's arms continued to flail about as he tried to locate something, ANYTHING, which would stop him from going into the lake. Micheal gripped harder around Sam's ankles and heaved. Sam slipped farther off the dock towards the water. He dug his nails into the wood, cringing as he felt several of them become dislodged as he still continued to slide. Sam's stomach wrenched while fear took hold. As the last part of his body slithered off, Sam's fingers wrapped around the edge of the dock and held on for dear life, mind working hastily to find an escape. But Micheal's grip remained strong, with no sign of relenting in the near future. Time was not on Sam's side.

Sam held tighter to the docks ragged edge. His knuckles were white with fear, his face only mere inches from complete submersion. He could feel his body being drawn under as though the lake were trying to swallow him entirely. He knew that the only remaining link between life and death was his weakening grip. Sam didn't know how much longer he could remain in this dire position but he was sure it could not be more than a few minutes tops. Sam lifted his head in desperation, eyes once again searching frantically for his brother, Dean. If he could find Dean, he would be okay. If he could find Dean, this nightmare would be over. But as he continued to look, no sight of Dean reached Sam's eyes. Sam began to feel Death's eminent grip slowly curling its fingers around his life. He needed Dean. Tears started to blur his vision as his arms started to shake. Nothing but deadly silence pierced through him as he clung to the dock, waiting painfully for death… "DEAN!"

--

Dean took a few steps into the cabin before reaching back and flipping on the lights. He did a once over of the place. There was only one large room and a loft that made up to whole of the cabin. The room was then sectioned off into formal areas. To the immediate right of the door was a small sitting area that consisted of a couch, loveseat, and television. There was a small door to the left of the sitting area, behind which Dean assumed was a bathroom. Behind the seating area was a conventional sized kitchen, complete with a microwave, countertop stove, sink and mini-refrigerator. There were also four fairly decent sized looking cabinets and drawers surrounding these utilities. It was in these cabinets and drawers that Dean figured he would locate some matches or a lighter.

Dean was in the kitchen with a total of three strides. He started first searching in the drawers nearest to the sink. The first drawer he opened contained a series of knives, some eating utensils, and a crap ton of napkins, but nothing that would ignite a fire. After rummaging through the rest of the drawers and coming up empty handed, Dean resumed his search in the four cabinets. His escapade through the first three cabinets proved to be fruitless. Unless he could start a fire with some canned peaches, he would be shit out of luck. Dean eyed in the last cupboard door. He placed both hands on his face and rubbed for a brief moment. Amazing how the fate of people's lives depended on what was behind this flimsy little cabinet door. Finally, deciding he had no more time to waste, Dean pried open the door and peered inside.

Bingo. The cabinet was filled with an assorted variety of fireworks, arsenals, and sparklers. Alongside of these was the prized item Dean was searching for: a box of jumbo-sized matches as well as a lighter. Dean reached out and grabbed the box, opening it and snatching a few matches, placing them safely inside his pocket. Then, a thought occurred to him. Based on the way his day was progressing thus far, he had probably, without a doubt managed to snatch any and all of the matches that were duds. Screw it, thought Dean. He placed the entire box as well as the lighter securely inside his pocket. Scratch that off their shopping list.

Dean was about to close the cabinet door when a label caught his eye. 'Exploding Snaps. Discretely place anywhere such as between the sheets or inside of bags to scare the pants off an unknowing victim! Minor injuries may occur if not used with caution.' This was too perfect. Ever since they were young, Dean and Sam had always had an infamous 'prank week' where each brother would try to outsmart, out scare, or outdo the other. Dean smiled to himself. 'Unknowing victim.' That would be Sam alright. Dean pocketed the box and began inspecting the other labels. Maybe something good could come out of this hunt after all…

"DEAN!!"

Dean's stomach lurched and his heart stopped momentarily. He had just heard Sammy call out his name. It wasn't the fact that Sam had called him that had caused his alarm; it was the tone in which it had been said. If Sam had been looking for him, casually strolling along in search of his location, the call would have sounded different, calmer and more relaxed. But the voice Sammy had just used was one filled with fear and anxiety, a voice that was only employed in serious life-threatening situations. Dean began to panic as an appalling thought occurred to him. He had left Sam alone on the dock of an evil spirit. Sam had no weapon, no defense mechanism. All Dean had armed him with was a plastic bottle of gasoline and a dinky container of salt. It was like dangling a steak in front of a junkyard dog and expecting the dog to just sit there politely and watch. Damn it, thought Dean. He quickly slammed the cupboard shut and raced out of the cabin, not even bothering to relock the front door.

Once outside the cabin, Dean felt his alarm move from slightly nervous to full blown terror. He can make out Sam's 6 foot figure dangling from the edge of the dock, half submersed in water. Shit. He continued sprinting towards the dock, towards his brother. Dean can see Sam's muscles straining. Evidently, something is pulling Sam from beneath the water, something that doesn't seem to want to let go. Dean wills his legs to move faster, watching Sam in trepidation as he can see his grip begin to weaken.

"HOLD ON, SAMMY!" screamed Dean in desperation. "JUST HOLD ON! I'M COMING!"

Unfortunately, the cry was registered a moment too late. Dean watched in horror as Sam's grasp on the dock diminished. NO! Dean's heart was pounding, tears streaming from his eyes as he raced to get to the dock. Sammy's head slipped beneath the surface of the murky water, unable to resist Micheal's firm pull into the darkness…

--

AUTHORS NOTE: So there you have it...chapter three. I hope you like it. Oh and sorry about the cliffy there at the end! I hate to leave you hanging but i couldn't resist. Please review, and, if you have time, don't forget to check out my first two revised chapters. I promise, like really promise!, that i won't take forever and a half to post the next chapter. Thanks for reading!! Reviews are love!


	4. Chapter 4

Title: What Lies Beneath  
Author: Michealangela  
Rating: T (for some cursing)  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. (

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks a lot to everyone who keeps reviewing. I really do love you all!! Well anyways…here you go! Enjoy!

--

WHAT LIES BENEATH

--CHAPTER FOUR—

Sam cringed as the weight of the world began crushing down on his strained body. His arms felt as though they were being ruthlessly ripped from their sockets. His fingers were steadily loosening from their life-sustaining grip on the dock, causing his body to inch ever so near to the water. Sam's heart was torn, a twisted matter of brokenness inside his chest. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go. Dean needed him. Without Sam, Dean had nobody to watch his back, nobody to care for him when he got injured, and nobody to stop him from starting his temper-driven fights. Sam was all that Dean had left in this world. He was Dean's everything. Sam let the tears pour down his face as a thought occurred to him: He couldn't remember the last thing he said to Dean. Damn it. He tried to rack his brains, knowing in his heart that it wasn't what he would have wanted to be his last dying words to his brother. Sam closed his eyes, trying to channel all energy into holding onto the dock, knowing that if he let go, a certain death awaited beneath the surface of the glassy water to greet him. God his life was fucked.

Sam felt his hold on the dock painstakingly diminish. His fingertips were all that was left as they clung desperately to the edge, the only thing keeping him alive now. Sam's mind called out mercilessly for Dean, as if silently hoping Dean would hear this cry and swoop down for the rescue. Dean was always there to save Sam, to catch him should he fall. And though Sam would never admit it to him, Dean was Sam's hero. Always has been and forever will be. That is, depending if he could make it through the next five minutes. Sam opened his eyes and lifted his head one last time. A crestfallen look overcame his facial features as Sam realized that despite his efforts, Dean was nowhere to be seen. He was going to die. Alone. Sam let out a heartrending sob as he felt his fingertips leave the dock. '_I'm sorry, Dean' _was the solitary thought that crossed his mind as his body entered the icy lagoon. _'I'm sorry.'_

A wave of shock crashed over Sam's fatigued body as he became fully submerged. Tiny needles pierced his skin as his body became temporarily frozen in alarm. He gasped, only to receive a mouth full of muddy water that quickly filled his lungs. Sam's mind was paralyzed, incapable of processing or reacting to what was occurring to his body. His only train of perceivable thought still remained fixed on his brother, Dean. He would never see Dean again. Ever. Without warning, Sam's instincts took over. Luckily for Sam, years and years of his father's constant hunting exercises had his instincts primed for fighter mode. It was the Winchester way of life. If he was going to die in this goddamn lake, he was at least going down with both guns blazing.

Sam began to kick forcefully in an effort to release Micheal's firm hold on his ankles. Although Micheal was supposedly dead, the hands that were wrapped around Sam's legs were undeniably real. Not to mention those same rotting hands were dragging him farther and farther beneath the surface of Lake Champlain. Sam remained focused intensely on freeing himself. But, after several kicks, Sam belatedly realized that his attempts were failing. A dull ache began to seep throughout his lungs, stemming from the bottom and forcing its way toward the center. Time was running out. He needed some air and he needed it NOW. Sam gave up on the whole kicking thing, determined to try a new escape tactic. He began thrashing and thriving every which way, pulling the water with his arms in an effort to breech the surface of the lake and refill his starving lungs with some much needed oxygen. Slowly, Sam's vision began to blur, black swirls oozing into his sight. He continued to struggle, knowing that if he didn't break free within the next couple of minutes, he would slip into unconsciousness, a state in which he would without a doubt die.

--

"HOLD ON, SAMMY!" screamed Dean in desperation. "JUST HOLD ON! I'M COMING!"

Unfortunately, the thundering cry was registered a moment too late. Dean watched in horror as Sam's grasp on the dock diminished. He watched as his brother, the one person in the world he was supposed to protect, the one person in the world who he actually gave a damn and then some about, sunk into the water, as if preparing for imminent death. 'NO!' was the only thought running through his head. 'No, no, no, no, no!' Dean's heart was pounding as he raced furiously to get to the dock. Sammy's head slipped beneath the surface of the murky water, unable to resist Micheal's firm pull into the darkness.

"SAMMY!! SAM!! NO!" Dean willed his legs to move all the more faster. Why had he picked the fucking cabin that had been so god damn far away? Why had he left Sam alone, perched on the dock, completely defenseless? Why had he been so stupid?! Dean could feel his muscles groan under the strain of his efforts, but he blocked it out. He blocked everything out. He knew that every breath he took was a breath Sam couldn't. He was mere seconds away from reaching the dock, but those few seconds could make all the difference in the fate of his brother's life. Dean's heart was hammering in his ears, sheer adrenaline propelling him forward. Sammy couldn't die. Not like this. Not when he was so close. Tears of frustration welled in his eyes as he finally reached the dock. He ripped off his jacket and dove headfirst into the icy abyss.

Dean didn't even notice the temperature of the water as he became engulfed by its currents. He had only one thought on his mind: Sam. Dean's mind went into overdrive. '_C'mon…c'mon…c'mon! Damnit!_' His eyes were open, wide with alert, taking in as much of his surroundings as possible. (Which, considering how damn muddy this craphole of a lake was, wasn't very much at all.) After one costly minute had snaked by and there was no sign of his brother, Dean decided to resurface for more air. He only spared a few seconds to allow his lungs to take in the precious oxygen before his was back underwater, this time diving deeper.

Dean continued to pull through the water, determined on not giving up. Panic was slowly oozing its way into his apprehensive mind. Even if he did find Sam, would he be too late? _NO, Damn it! He was gonna find Sam even if he had to drain this whole friggen lake._ The guilt Dean felt still weighed heavily on his mind. This would have never happened if he hadn't been so self-absorbed in his own problems to pay attention to the hunt at hand. Sam was his responsibility. He was supposed to have Sam's back at all times--ALWAYS. Bang up job on that one. Dean pushed this thought out of mind as he continued swimming deeper, focusing only on finding Sam.

Suddenly, his heart seized as he noticed what looked to be a body. There, a few feet away, was Sam. Dean remained paralyzed for a moment, his heart not believing what his eyes were seeing. Sam was there; underwater, kicking forcefully at what looked to be Micheal's spirit. Apparently Sam wanted to get away from Micheal as much as Dean wanted to get Sam to the surface. Dean quickly began to swim towards his brother, watching as Sam continued to fight the spirit's grip, to fight death. Pride welled in Dean's chest. Sam was definitely a Winchester through and through.

As soon as he was within arm's length, Dean reached out and placed hands beneath Sam's armpits. He felt Sam's muscles tense as he began to pull, but brushed it off as a defense mechanism for fighting Micheal. Oh it was a fighting mechanism alright. Rather abruptly, Dean felt something hard strike him upside the head, something that felt an awful lot like Sam's arm. Dean let go of Sam with the sudden realization that Sam assumed he was another one of Micheal's delusions to lull him into death's grasp. Dean swam around his thrashing brother until he was finally in front of Sam's face where he would be clearly visible. He cautiously reached his arms out, placing his hands on Sammy's face. He preferred not to receive another wallop on the head, or anywhere else for that matter. Although they were underwater, Sam still had a pretty mean right hook that Dean would rather avoid. Dean waited as Sam flinched under his benign hands. Sam's eyes searched frantically for their owner, eyes eventually locking with Deans. Dean could read the thought that went through his brother's mind as he felt him relax ever so slightly: _Thank God._

Dean's lungs began to ache, starving for oxygen. He needed to get them both to the surface and soon. Having no time to waste, Dean repositioned his arms under Sam's so they were chest to chest and began kicking vigorously. Much to his relief, they began to ascend towards the surface. Evidently Micheal had decided Sam wasn't worth it, releasing Sam's ankle in the process. That was fine by Dean. The sooner Sam got the hell out of this water, the better. He watched as the surface began to draw nearer and nearer. It felt as though time was at a standstill as Dean continued kicking. Halfway through their ascension, he felt Sammy's body slacken as he lost consciousness. Sam's dead weight only added to the already malevolent mixture of problems on Dean's list. This was definitely not his day. His lungs are on fire now, screaming out in agony. His muscles are aching, protesting their every move. Dean remained strong, pushing past all this, focusing his energy and concern on Sam. They were so close. Dean couldn't give up now.

After a few more seconds of kicking, the brothers finally breeched the surface of the lake, submersing themselves in a sea of oxygen. Dean took several large gasps, feeding his appetite for air. Sam's head merely lolled back onto Dean's shoulder. Dean remained stationary in the water for only a few seconds longer before deciding to haul ass back to the shore. Although he didn't know why Micheal had let go of Sam, he certainly wasn't going to risk a repeat performance. Besides, he needed to check out his unconscious little brother.

The swim back to shore was nothing compared to the effort it took to get to the surface. Despite the jello-like sensation that had enveloped his legs, Dean found strength as he had his arms wrapped around his brother. Sam was safe, back where he should be and Dean was gonna be damn sure he stayed that way. At least until they left Wyoming, anyways.

Dean pulled Sam onto the shore, laying him flat on his back. Dean's body willed for him to collapse onto the ground there, right next to Sam, and just drift into sleep. Dean's mind, however, was still in protective mode and wouldn't allow any such behavior until he was sure that Sam was okay. Dean fell to his knees beside Sam and crouched over him, turning his head so his face was directly over Sam's nose and mouth. His fingers groped around Sam's neck, eventually finding the tell-all spot.

Dean's heart stopped. Although a pulse was beating weakly beneath his trembling fingers, Sam wasn't breathing. No small gasps, coughs, sputters, no nothing. Dean felt the panic begin to work its way back into his system, fear taking hold of his heart rather firmly. He quickly situated himself and tilted Sam's head back. Dean breathed into Sam's mouth, a small wave of relief washing over him as he watched Sam's chest rise and fall. Windpipe blockage was always a bitch. He counted out loud, five seconds seeming like an eternity before administering the second breath.

Dean continued to give rescue breaths to Sam, periodically checking for a pulse. His mind kept focusing on one thought and one thought alone as he fought to keep Sammy alive. He could hear the voice of his dad speaking in his head: "This is your fault. Everything is always your fault. If you would have just left Sam be who he wanted to be, left him live his own life, none of this would have ever happened. Sam would be happy with his life, his NORMAL life. I give you one job, ONE JOB, and you can't even do that right. Instead you have to fuck everything up and almost get him killed in the process. Sam doesn't need you. He would be better off without you."

Dean was torn from his grievous reflection as he felt Sam begin to cough. Relief flooded Dean's every sense as he rolled Sam over into the recovery position. Sam was alive, breathing. Somehow, although far be it from him to know how, everything was going to be okay. Dean placed his hand on Sam's back and began to rub in a gentle circular motion as Sam continued to sputter out the lake water.

"Sammy…Sam. Hey. C'mon man. Let me see your eyes. Please, God. Let me see your eyes." Dean silently cursed himself at how weak and vulnerable his voice sounded. Weakness was a word that didn't exist in his vocabulary. But when it came to Sammy, he supposed he could make a few exceptions.

"Please, Sammy. Just open your eyes…"

--

Sam felt as though he was in a dream. It was as though everything was floating by, a surreal sensation overcoming his senses. Sam furrowed his brow in thought, trying to remember what happened. That's when it all came barreling back to him--The dock. Micheal's spirit. Being ripped from the dock. Hanging on waiting for Dean. No Dean. Letting go. Being pulled under, slowly sinking lower and lower. Fighting Micheal's spirit. Still no Dean. Needing air. Continuing to fight. A peculiar sense of relief flooding his mind. Strong arms embracing him. And then nothing.

Sam felt a shiver rack through his frame. He could hear a familiar soft mumbling sound, though he could make out none of the words. Sam attempted to make out the words. Frustration began to worm its way into his mind as the mumbling continued. The only thing Sam could make out was somebody calling his name, and that somebody sounded like they were hurting, emotionally wrought with pain. The voice was filled with warmth and love, as well as a generous amount of concern. Sam racked his brain as he tried to place the voice with a person. His mind was cloudy, as though the lake had seeped into the confines of his mind and flooded his every though. Nonetheless, Sam pushed onward. Suddenly, it occurred to him. It was Dean. Dean had saved him, pulled him to the surface. It was Dean! It had to be Dean.

Sam's frustration peaked as he attempted to reply back to Dean's pleas. Sam could tell by the tone of the mumblings that Dean was begging, pleading for something. Sam began to worry. For Dean to beg, one of two things had to occur: Sam had to be hurt or Sam had to be dying; neither of which sounded pleasant to Sam. Sam focused his attention on Dean's voice, using it as a foothold to regain consciousness. Slowly, the mumbling began to develop into words.

"Hey…Sammy. C'mon man. Let me see your eyes. Please, God. Let me see your eyes."

"Please Sammy, just open your eyes…"

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me? Sam? Open your eyes. Sammy, I need you."

As the last syllable of 'you' left Dean's mouth, Sam felt an unexplained surge of energy and was submersed in black. He was out of the dream, closer to regaining consciousness. He attempted to lift his eyelids, disappointment flooding his senses as he received no response. Not even a friggen flutter. He tried again, hearing the raw emotion bleeding from Dean's words. Dean needed him to be awake and he needed him to be awake like yesterday.

''I…It..s…Its S…Sam…" Sam's throat cried out in rebellion as he attempted to call out for Dean. Unfortunately, it came out as more of a cough. Apparently, a near-drowning experience does wonders on the vocal chords…

Sam awaited the cocky reply he was sure to follow. But after several second passed by and there was still no response, Sam assumed that Dean hadn't heard his remark. So Sam swallowed forcefully and tried again, rolling out of the recovery position onto his back. "D..Dean?"

"Sam? Oh god. Sammy, you with me?" Dean held his breath, not willing to believe his ears just yet.

"Yeah…d'ean..." Sam let out a sigh of relief. Dean was here, by his side. Sam was no longer in the lake, fighting Micheal, fighting tirelessly for his life. Dean had saved him yet again.

"Thank God. Man I thought I lost you there for a second. Think you can open those big girly eyes of yours for me?" Dean let out a laugh, a feeble cry for joy.

Sam's eyelids began to flutter rapidly before finally, after a few seconds, forming tiny slits for him to see through. Sam slowly pulled his eyelids up, allowing his eyes to adjust to the harsh sunlight. After blinking several times, the world came into focus. Sam noticed he was lying on the beach, with the water about ten feet away. To his left about fifteen feet was the dock. Sam's eyes lingered on the dock, a gut-wrenching fear taking hold of his stomach. The dock was still standing and that could only mean one thing in Sam's mind—Micheal was still alive. And if Micheal was still alive, than the threat of death was all too real. Sam tore his eyes away from the dock as he heard a gut wrenching noise come from his left. His reactions were still slow due to his lack of oxygen, and a sheer fog had settled in his mind. Sam couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. All he knew was that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Sam's eyes widened in alarm--Dean was no longer at his side.

Sam's eyes searched anxiously for Dean. His heart rate skyrocketed as hyperventilation set in. His thoughts trailed off, settling uncomfortably on one firm conclusion. If Dean was gone, and Micheal was still alive, then Micheal must have done something undeniably evil to Dean. Sam attempted to stand, collapsing to the ground in a pile of limbs. Note to self: oxygen deprivation doesn't go over so well with the muscles.

"Dean." Sam's cry came out as more of a conversational level of volume then the louder yell he would have preferred. A fit of coughing overtook his lungs as he spat out more lake water.

"Dean!" Sam's call was louder this time, having successfully mustered up enough strength to call for his brother. Sam was on the verge of having a full out panic attack. His near-drowning experience had taken a lot of his strength, strength that may be needed to save Dean from Micheal. Dean had always trusted Sam with his life, had always counted on Sam to watch his back, and now, when it mattered most, Sam felt as though failure was inevitable.

Sam looked once more towards the dock, running on pure adrenaline as he felt all the energy being slowly sucked from his frail body. His heart skipped a beat at the scene displayed before him. Dean was being ruthlessly pulled along towards Micheal's dock. The same rope that had been used to attach the boat to the dock was now securely coiled around the bulk of his neck, cutting off any air supply and preventing speech. As Sam looked to Dean's eyes, he took into account the look of defiant fear was that was plastered on his brother's usually guarded facial features. "DEAN!! HANG ON MAN!!"

Sam stumbled over to the discarded box of matches, as well as the pile of wet matches that had been rendered useless by the rain. Damn Mother Nature. The realization behind the reasoning of Dean's first unexplainable disappearance suddenly came crashing down upon Sam. Dean had gone to the cabin. He had broken into the cabin to find matches to torch the dock. That's why Sam couldn't see him, and also why he didn't get any reply to his first desperate pleas for help. And God could only hope that Dean had had enough sense to drop the matches before diving in to save Sam. Sam peered towards the direction of the abandoned cabin. There, scattered haphazardly in the grass, looked to be what Sam could only pray to be the matches.

Sam staggered over to the area, willing his recovering body to move as fast as possible. He couldn't let Dean down. No. Dean would not die because of some damn lake spirit. Dean wouldn't die ever, not if Sam could help it. As soon as he was within an arm's length, Sam scrapped up a good handful of seemingly dry matches and began to race back towards the dock. Sam looked towards Dean. It was apparent his brother was fighting a losing battle with consciousness at this point. Dean's eyelids were fluttering rapidly, eventually ceasing as the green eyes below rolled back, his body entering into the unconscious state.

Seeing this only pushed Sam farther. He knew Dean needed air and he needed air NOW. Sam was now only feet from the dock, with only one thought running through his mind: 'Gotta save Dean. Gotta save Dean.' Micheal Pristine was going to pay. Of that much Sam Winchester was sure. Nobody messed with the brothers and lived to tell the tale. It was time to send this bastard to hell. With a look of grim satisfaction, Sam lit the entire handful of matches and tossed the flaming wad mercilessly towards the dock. "Burn, baby, Burn."

--

A/N--So there it is... I hope you liked it. Sorry for those of you who read my last chapter four version. I needed to alter it to make it fit...Let me know what you think if you can. Reviews are love!! Chapter 5 willl be coming up soon.

A/N2: I sincerely apologize for the continuous cliffies i keep dropping on you guys. What can i say? I guess there is a little evil inside us all...) Thanks again for reading!! Much love!


	5. Chapter 5

Title: What Lies Beneath  
Author: Michealangela  
Rating: T (for some cursing)  
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. (

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks a lot to everyone who keeps reviewing. I really do love you all!! Well anyways…here you go! Enjoy!

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WHAT LIES BENEATH

--CHAPTER FIVE—

Dean couldn't believe the luck he was having. First he has to hunt some stupid spirit in the middle of friggen nowhere, the he wiped out on his ass after tripping over some damn root, next thing you know Sam had forgot to research exactly which dock was Micheal's, then Dean had successfully ruined a whole box of matches, and to top things off, Sam almost died because that sick bastard tried to drown him. DIED-as in dead, gone, never coming back, ceasing to exist. So when Dean felt something suddenly slip around his neck, an overwhelming sensation of exasperation took precedence. Damn this day!

Dean's heartfelt exasperation was quickly replaced with raw terror as he felt the rope tighten and begin to drag him towards the dock. Hell no. He had just saved Sam from the brink of death. No way in hell was Dean planning on a repeat performance with reversal roles. Besides that, Dean was worried Sam simply didn't have the strength required to perform such a taxing rescue. Dean felt the rope dig into his throat, cutting off all oxygen supplies as well as preventing any form of speech. ..So much for calling for Sam. Dean quickly brought his hands up to the rope, fingers struggling to loosen its overpowering hold. But there was no give, no mercy as the rope continued to drag his body closer and closer to the dock. Dean felt his panic kick up a notch as he realized just how close he was getting to the lake. Twenty feet and counting was way too close for personal comfort. His eyes immediately sought Sam, who remained perched on the beach, taking in his surroundings as he attempted to recover. Dean wanted nothing more than to call out for his brother, to enact communication of any sort to convey his situation. But with the damn rope coiled around his neck that task proved to be nearly impossible. His brother was so close, and yet seemed so far. Dean was going to die. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it…

Dean shot one last look at his brother, pleading to the heavens that Sam would be alright without him there to watch his back. There had been so much that Dean had wanted to tell Sam, so much he still needed to tell him, that he hadn't been given the opportunity too. Dean felt a tear slip effortlessly from his eye. Damn. He was going to miss his geeky little brother. Then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, Dean saw Sam lift his head, eyes searching and connecting almost immediately with his. Premature relief flowed through Dean's body as he conveyed the direness of his situation to Sam. Maybe all hope was not lost…

"DEAN!! HANG ON MAN!!" Dean registered Sam's cry, wanting to laugh out loud. Sam was here, and he was going to save him. Even if it meant going to the ends of the earth and back, one thing was certain. Dean wasn't going to go anywhere soon. It would take more than some pissed off spirit to take him out.

Dean saw Sam attempt to run to the matches, knowing his brother's body was still recovering from its near-death experience in the lake. He willed Sam to move faster as he noticed the blackness beginning to ease its way into his vision as his mental processes began to cloud. The lake was now only five feet from Dean's head, and if Sam didn't hurry, Dean wasn't so sure there would be anything left for his brother to save. Dean clung to consciousness with all his might, not willing to give in to its confines until he was sure Sam had wasted Micheal's sorry ass. Dean merely watched as Sam stood up and began to run towards the dock, a look of hard determination set on his usually soft features. One thing was clear, even in Dean's stupefied, oxygen deprived state: Sam meant business.

Within seconds, Dean felt Sam beside him, as an unforgiving wave of heat passed over his body. Dean closed his eyes, letting a strangled sigh of relief escape from his lips. Sam had done it. Micheal was gone. With that thought, Dean allowed his mind to be lulled into unconsciousness as his mind vaguely registered Sam's muddled voice…"Burn, baby, Burn."

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Sam sat in awe for a few seconds, watching the fire encompass the dock and feeling the heat press against his skin. He did it. Micheal was gone, finally put to rest and Dean was saved. That's when something in Sam's mind kicked his mind into gear… _Dean_.

Sam scrambled over to his brother, dropping beside his unconscious form. Sam pulled his knife from his boot and began to cut away at the bindings around Dean's neck, being careful not to knick Dean's neck in the process. Sam noted with uneasiness that Dean wasn't breathing, but remained focused on removing the rope. He almost cried out with joy as his knife tore through the last strand of the tattered rope. Sam quickly discarded his knife and bent of Dean's face, listening closely for any signs of respiration and feeling numbly for a pulse on his brother's neck. Sam nearly collapsed when he registered the steady thumping present beneath his fingers, as well as the shallow wheezing noise currently being escaping Dean's mouth. His brother was alive. Sam hadn't failed.

"Dean…hey. C'mon man. Open your eyes… " Sam remained stationary, holding Dean's head in his lap as he slowly lulled him back to consciousness. Sam could feel Dean fighting to regain his consciousness and did all he could to aid him.

"That's it… You can do it. Just open your eyes. You know you want to see my gorgeous face just one more time." Sam bit down on his lower lip as Dean's eyes began to flutter rapidly.

"Ha…yeah…r-right. Don't….wan..na…go…blind." Sam laughed as Dean rasped out a comeback, eyes eventually becoming apparent. Even after nearly dying, Dean still managed to have the last laugh.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. God, I thought I lost you there for a second…" Sam tore his gaze from Dean's, allowing himself a minute to recover from the torrent of emotions currently ravaging through his mind.

"Yeah. Right back at you…" countered Dean. It had been a close call for both of them, and Dean was sure his mind wasn't going to allow that to settle any time soon.

Sam looked up in shock, meeting Dean's warm gaze. Sam had completely forgotten about almost drowning. His mind hadn't registered the event, having been primarily focused on saving Dean. But now, sitting beside his brother, Sam allowed the string of events to come crashing back to him. He realized just how close he had come, just how close he had been to dying. Sam remembered the immense amount of fear and overwhelming grief that had been flowing throughout his entire body as he failed to locate Dean and attempted to fight off Micheal. He could only imagine how Dean must have felt as he rescued him yet again.

"Listen, Dean…I'm sorry. I-" Sam paused as Dean held up his hand to signify him to stop.

"Sammy. Look man. I know you held onto that dock for as long as you could. You fought Micheal with all every ounce of strength in you, even though you knew you would probably die. And I know you tried to get to me as soon as you could, even if you looked like a stumbling drunk in the process. You have NOTHING to be sorry about. Got that?"

Sam nodded, as a lump lodged itself tightly in his throat. Dean took it for what it was worth and continued.

"If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I'm the one who messed up, not you." Dean dropped his head, the full weight of his guilt bearing down on him. Dean had messed up. He had messed up royally and it had almost cost his brother his life. But he couldn't bear to look in Sam's eyes. He had lost his little brother's trust and that was only fair. Sam had every right not to trust him.

"Dean, stop. You're being ridiculous. If you hadn't been there to pull my ass out of that water, I wouldn't be alive right now. If I hadn't dragged your ass all the way out to the middle of friggen nowhere, none of this would have ever happened…It's not your fault."

Dean looked up, having garnered enough courage to face Sam. "It is, Sam. It is my fault. Okay, yeah. So you were the one to drag us all the way out to this hell hole, but that doesn't give any excuse for me to slack off. I messed up and it nearly cost you your life. I'm the idiot who left you on that dock without any means of self defense. That was ME! Not you! I mean, when I heard you scream my name, I dunno man. And then I saw the look of complete defeat you had when you went under and I knew it was all my fault. I should have been there. I should have been there sooner to save you. I was just so wrapped up in hating the world that I took it out on you. And I'm sorry. If you don't trust me anymore, I totally understand. I mean I wouldn't want to trust me either." Dean tore his gaze from Sam's as he felt his eyes begin to water, on the brink of tears. God, he had screwed this one up.

"Dean. Hey. Dean….look at me." Sam waited for Dean to finally meet his determined stare. He needed for Dean to understand, needed to see the look in his brother's eyes. It took a few minutes for Dean to compose himself before he brought his eyes weakly to meet Sam's. Then and only then did Sam continue. "Dean, there is nothing you could ever do that would make me not trust you. NOTHING. You're my brother. It takes more than one little mistake to lose my trust. And it wasn't all your fault, as much as you would like to think it was. I am just as guilty as you, man. I mean, hell!--I was the idiot who went out on that dock without a gun, granted I thought you were there, just behind me. But the mistake is still partially mine. What was dad's number one rule? 'Never find yourself unarmed. Be prepared for anything.' I messed up just as much as you. And when I let go, the only thing that was going through my mind was that I failed you. That was the only reason I fought, the only reason I tried to stay alive. Seeing you there, underwater, coming to my rescue, was like seeing a miracle. And yeah, okay. I'll admit that that sounds corny, but it's true. All of it. I would NEVER not trust you. So don't you ever go around thinking that. EVER."

Sam held Dean's gaze, even as he felt a tear slip out of the corner of his eye. His brother could be so STUPID sometimes. Utterly thickheaded. But none of that mattered to Sam. He loved Dean, and although he would never admit to it unless it was a life or death situation, Sam knew that Dean loved him too. He always had, and he always will.

Dean returned Sam's gaze with an equal intensity. Part of him just wanted to reach out and hug his brother and never let go. But the rational, anti-chick flick, part of him just couldn't allow such a display of girly emotions. So he settled for the simplest way to say 'I love you' that he knew how. "Bitch."

Sam grinned as he mustered back his response. "Jerk."

The brothers sat for a few more minutes in comfortable silence, watching the dock as it burned to ashes. There was an unsaid bond that was strengthened as Sam and Dean remained seated there beside the lake, each focusing on their own thoughts. Eventually, after all remnants of the dock had completely disintegrated, they decided it was best that they should head back. Dean rose first, offering a hand to help Sam up. Sam took the offered hand, and together, they began the "pretty short hike" back to the car. The brothers continued to banter each other the entire trip back to the Impala.

Once they entered the clearing, Dean let out a sigh. There, parked all the way across the entire parking lot, was his baby. And there wasn't a scratch on her. "Home, sweet home."

"Yeah well good old home sweet home might not be so far away if someone hadn't insisted on parking so god damn far away. But oh wait! That's right. We couldn't dare bother to scratch her 'fine exterior paint job', now could we?" Sam grinned as he ducked, cunningly avoiding a playful punch to the arm thrown his way by Dean. When it came down to it, Sam was just as grateful to see the Impala as Dean.

"Yeah well if you don't shut your cakehole, this home sweet home will be leaving your ungrateful ass out here to walk. You think she's far away now, you just wait…"

As they reached the car, Dean took the gear from his brother and unlocked the trunk, throwing it haphazardly in. He would sort it out later. Right now, Dean would give anything for a hot shower and some good old fashioned shut eye. He heard Sam shut the passenger door and decidedly shut the trunk, making his way to the driver's side and hopping in. He went to insert the key when he suddenly stopped himself, noticing the mischievous grin plastered clearly on Sam's face. 'What the hell?' thought Dean.

"Man I don't know why you're all the sudden so happy. I mean I know I am might fine to look at, but you know I don't swing that way. Sorry about your luck there, kiddo."

Sam's grin remained strong, not even wavering for a comeback. Dean decidedly ignored it; mind focused on the prospect of the nice warm motel bed that was currently waiting for him. He reinserted the key, and turned it, firing up the engine. He shifted and pulled out of the tiny parking lot. Dean glanced over at Sam, noticing the unwavering smirk. After trying to come up with a source for what the hell could be so funny, he decided that maybe Sam's brain was still recovering from losing oxygen.

"Damn, it's quiet in here. How about some tunes? What do you say, Sammy? You ready for some good old classic rock?"

Sam's grin faltered a little bit, diminishing into a slight smile. "Sure. Sounds great. Be my guest."

Dean reached over to the glove box, pulling the handle and opening the compartment. He reached inside and pulled out the shoebox full of his beloved cassette tapes. 'Mullet rock, my ass,' he thought as he opened the lid. Suddenly, the sound of rapid gunshots filled the interior of the Impala as tiny pellets began to rain on Dean's face and arms.

"WHAT THE HELL!!" Dean could hear Sam's laughter through all the commotion. Apparently, this was Sam's idea of a good time. God, he was going to strangle that kid! Here he was, attempting to drive his baby down the road when for all they know; the shoebox full of cassettes erupts in explosions. This could have been a death threat, an attempt at their lives, and here Sam was, laughing his head off. Then, something caught Dean's eye. He reached inside the still chaotic shoebox to pull out an empty box labeled clearly "Exploding Snaps". That sneaky little son of a bitch…

"SAM!!!"

The end…. =)

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A/N: Haha…I had to end on a happy note. Sorry this took so long to update and publish. Thank you to all who supported me along the way. I hope you enjoyed the story. It's only my first one, although I am hoping to write more. I hope I didn't mess up the whole angsty scene too much. I tried my best. Please let me know what you think!

Reviews are love!! Thanks again!


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